


Slightly dub-con Johnlock fic(I suck at titles)

by SuperLockBabe25



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Rimming, Sleep Sex, Sleepy John, Somnophilia, Virgin Sherlock, slight dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperLockBabe25/pseuds/SuperLockBabe25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first Johnlock fic! </p><p>Basically Sherlock buggering John in his sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slightly dub-con Johnlock fic(I suck at titles)

**Author's Note:**

> I love getting feedback, so please be gentle and tell me what you think! Lots of kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated <3
> 
> I also do paid commissions for fanfics, so if you have a story you'd like to commission from me, just message me here or by email:
> 
> MistressSapphira25@gmail.com

Sherlock was busy organizing his mind palace when he heard the downstairs door opening. He wondered if maybe he had a client but then remembered that John had to work at the clinic today. Just John, then. But the footfalls were slightly irregular. Sherlock opened his eyes at this. They were slower, heavier. He was beginning to think he might be mistaken at who was coming up the stairs, also noticing how late it was, practically nighttime. But then he distinctly heard a sigh of fatigue travel up the stairs. It was then that Sherlock remembered John mentioning something about a double shift.

 _Dull_ , he thought, rolling his eyes. He could never understand why John insisted on working at that ridiculous job. It was inconvenient to The Work and kept John away when Sherlock needed him. John claimed it was extra income but that was unnecessary. Sherlock's family was far from commonwealth so they would have no problem getting extra money if they needed it. But John was self sufficient and insisted that he work and earn his pay instead of having it handed to him. _Pride. Such a dull concept._

_Why does John insist on spending valuable time with those simpletons and hypochondriacs, as if they couldn't treat a cold or sprained ankle themsel-_

Sherlock's internal ranting stopped when the door to the flat opened and John trudged inside, body slumping and a tired expression on his face.

"Evening, Sherlock.", he glanced at the lounging detective as he hung up his coat. He groaned as he stretched his back and shoulders, then rubbing the bad one.

"Today was an utter shit day."

"You could always quit. It's not as if you need the job anyway.".

John began to brew some much needed tea. "I'm not getting into that with you again Sherlock. It's pointless and I'm too tired.".

There was a stretch of silence before John spoke again, shutting off the kettle.

"So how was your day? Any cases? New experiments? Or did you just lounge about the flat all day?".

Turning around with his cup of tea, he figured it was probably the latter, seeing as his flatemate was still wearing his pajamas and dressing gown, giving John a small grunt in reply.

More silence ensued as the detective apparently had gone back into "thinking mode", fingers steepled under his chin and eyes staring up at the ceiling. So John simply finished his tea then placed the cup in sink, again rubbing at his bad shoulder, grimacing with discomfort.

"Well, I'm beat. I'm just gonna have a lie down.".

Before he could take a step toward his room upstairs, the baritone voice spoke from the couch.

"Take my bed.".

John stopped in his tracks, pausing to make sure he heard right. "Excuse me?".

"You know I hate repeating myself. You're exhausted from the double shift at that infernal job and practically dead on your feet. You barely made it up to the flat.". He looked over at John. "Take my bed.".

"Sherlock, thank you, but it's not necessary -", John tried to protest but Sherlock fixed him with a look that brooked no argument.

"John.".

The doctor sighed and shrugged in defeat.

"Fine if you insist. You sure there's no dangerous experiments cluttering the place?".

"I assure you, it is fine. Now sleep. I need to think.", and with that, turned his gaze back toward the ceiling.

"Whatever you say, Sherlock. Goodnight.", John called as he made his way down the hall.

Sherlock grunted in reply, "Goodnight.".

 

************

 

Sherlock filled a good portion of the evening with thinking, tea, more thinking, checking his website for any possible cases, and experiments. He was examining his spore samples when suddenly he heard it. A small moan coming from his bedroom broke the silence. Sherlock looked up from his microscope and over at the direction of his room, listening. Another moan sounded. _John...is he having a_ _nightmare?_

With that in mind Sherlock got up and made his way to his bedroom to investigate.

Opening the door, he peered inside, noticing John's jumper, button-down and trousers folded neatly over the chair in the corner. He looked over at John's sleeping figure in his bed, the duvet covering half of the doctor's body. From there Sherlock could tell that John was dressed in only his undershirt and pants. Sherlock's eyebrow twitched as he noticed his cock giving a small jump at the thought.

He didn't have long to contemplate the reaction when John began making noises in his sleep once again.

"Mmm...Sherlock..".

_He's dreaming about me...having a nightmare about me?_

Sherlock started to make his way over to his friend, perhaps to wake him, when John groaned, louder this time. Only this groan didn't sound pained or frightened. It sounded almost like...

Oh. OH.

Oh my.

Sherlock's eyes widened as he realized.

_Not a nightmare.. John is having a sexual dream._

This caused yet another twitch in his groin.

_And he called my name...John is having a sexual dream...a-about me?_

At this point Sherlock was flying half-mast in his pajama bottoms. He looked down at himself.

_Interesting. The knowledge of John dreaming of me in a sexual way is causing my body to react. Why?_

Another groan from John and mentioning of Sherlock's name. This time almost like he was begging. Begging for Sherlock...to do what, exactly? The possibilities ran through the detective's mind. At least whatever Sherlock knew of sexual activities, which was not a lot but more than what one would think.

 _Would I want to have sexual intimacy with John?_  

He never wanted...that sort of interaction with anyone before. Why should he succumb to his body's barbaric needs with the boring unworthy peons that surround him when The Work was much more fulfilling?

But that was before John. Wonderful, caring, moral, strong, brave John. He may seem ordinary to most people, but John was so much more. Every time Sherlock thought he had the former soldier figured out, John would do something to surprise Sherlock.

Like killing a man to save Sherlock. Who does that for someone they just met?

And no one had ever been so impressed or shown such fascination for Sherlock like John did.

_"That..was amazing.". "Brilliant, Sherlock!". "That's fantastic!"._

He would never get tired of that, not matter how many times John praised him. John never made Sherlock feel any less than special.

So could Sherlock imagine having that kind of closeness with his wonderful flatemate? It appeared that John did.

_So John wished to have a more romantic partnership? How could I have missed it?! And do I share this wish?_

His body gave him the final verdict, with the tightening in his chest, warmth spreading throughout him, and his now very obvious, fully erect cock.

Sherlock gazed at the sleeping army medic in the bed, noting that the moaning and calling of his name had not ceased. John's hips had even begun thrusting, minutely. The erection in Sherlock's bottoms was getting rather painful. He hadn't had one this strong since pubescence. It seemed to be demanding attention.

He could just "go have a wank" as John would put it, but the concept of masturbation never really appealed to him. But he couldn't wake John. The man needed sleep and he would be of no real use to Sherlock if he wasn't well rested. Not to mention the tedious task of informing John of his awareness of John's feelings for him and negotiating a sexual relationship.

That's when he got an idea. A most interesting experiment. His lips curled into a predatory smile as he crossed over to the bed. Carefully, he sat down on the mattress, hoping not to wake John. Thankfully he remained asleep, his eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids, indicating REM sleep. The deepest sleep phase. _Good._

Slowly, Sherlock reached a hand up to gently card his fingers through the golden-grey hair. _Soft_. Next, he ever so softly stroked his fingertips down John's cheek. The face twitched slightly, but he didn't wake. He looked so peaceful and serene, all the stress and fatigue gone, making him appear much younger. Sherlock had never really thought about it until now how rather handsome John was.

His fingers moved to stroke John's jawline, stopping under his chin. Sherlock's eyes fixed upon those lips. They were slightly chapped but still looked rather...appetizing. Boldly, Sherlock leaned closer and pressed his cupid's bow lips against the other's in a small, chaste kiss.

He exhaled shakily and his eyes widened at the sudden warmth once again flooding through him from the contact. His heart rate had also sped up, as well as his hardness giving another pulse.

 _Intriguing_ , he thought as he filed his own reaction away in his mind. John's lips twitched and another moan hummed from his throat. Sherlock's cock throbbed once more. He decided that he had to get on with this before he exploded, as preposterous as that was.

Sherlock stroked John's neck, feeling the rapid pulse there. He leaned in and brushed his lips against it, noting and filing the hitch in the slumbering man's breathing. The detective sat up again and gently placed his palms against John's chest, feeling the pectorals and the strong heartbeat beneath. He felt John inhale deeply from the warmth of Sherlock's hands. Odd, since John sometimes complained that his hands were always cold... _Hmm.._

He slid his hands further down John's body, feeling the warm, toned abdomen through the undershirt. Sliding them back upward, he then stroked a hand down each arm, deftly squeezing the muscled biceps. He grasped one of John's strong hands and felt compelled to brush the knuckles against his own face and lips. He breathed deeply at the sensation, and filed that away.

Placing the hand back down, Sherlock decided that he needed to see more of his sleeping companion, and so he reached for the hem of John's shirt. He very carefully worked the garment up his body, revealing the toned, sturdy body underneath. With the shirt now rucked up under John's underarms, Sherlock was free to inspect and catalogue the buffet of skin before him. He leaned down and pressed his nose and mouth to the chest rising and falling with each breath. Sherlock breathed in John's scent, lightly sweaty and very masculine, with a hint of tea and the deodorant John used. And underlying it all, he smelled of their flat, of home. Sherlock smiled at that particular scent.

Moving on, he came across the pert nipples, brushing and pressing his lips over them each in turn, then rubbing his thumbs over them both. This caused John to shift in his sleep, inhaling deeply and exhaling on a moan. After ensuring that he wasn't going to wake, Sherlock continued, but not before reaching down to give his erection a small squeeze to relieve some pressure, groaning quietly. He wouldn't last much longer.

Sherlock trailed his lips in soft kisses downward over John's belly, cataloging the warm skin, until at last he encountered the duvet. Grumbling at the inconvenience, Sherlock sat up and grabbed the offending linen and carefully peeled it back to reveal the rest of John's body. Smirking with satisfaction, Sherlock all but dove in again, placing his hands on John's upper thighs as his eyes scanned the very prominent erection tenting the man's pants. He began rubbing the thighs under his hands as he anticipated finding out what lay beneath those pants. What an interesting addition to the John Watson wing of his Mind Palace that would be!

He maneuvered himself down the bed some more to more easily investigate John's lower half. He carefully spread John's legs a little wider, concluding that he would have to climb in between to finish his exploration. It would be tricky not to wake John during, but it could be done. Silently he climbed onto the bed and settled between the muscular legs. He returned his hands to those thighs massaging gingerly. More sleepy moans.

Sherlock bent down and began ghosting kisses along each thigh before moving to the pulsing hardness ahead. The detective breathed in and out shaky breaths that he realized were becoming more rapid as he inched closer to his prize. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his face first into the crease where thigh met groin, breathing in and filing the scent, which was more masculine and musky here, which made Sherlock's hardness throb between his legs. Then he finally nuzzled the sizable bulge, breathing more heavily as he mouthed it from covered bollocks to covered penis. He was almost surprised at himself, at how worked up he was getting from doing this to John, but found that he didn't really care. He was enjoying himself immensely.

Sleeping John was now moaning through slightly parted lips, and also shallowly thrusting against Sherlock's mouth, subconsciously enjoying the attention.

Oh gods, how badly Sherlock wanted to rut against the mattress, but knew that if he did this would be over before it even began. So reluctantly, he refrained and concentrated on the current task.

Done with teasing them both, Sherlock lifted himself in order to hook his fingers under the waistband of the pants that blocked him from the last bit of flesh to discover. He bit his lip as he slowly slid them down and off of John.

_Oh..!_

It was glorious, indeed. Flushed slightly red from the need to release, throbbing and leaking with precum. It wasn't especially long, but oh, was it impressive in girth! His bollocks were quite lovely as well, full and pulled tight as if he could go off at any moment. Sherlock involuntarily licked his lips as his eyes roamed over the exceptinal member. Bending down again, he experimentally licked up the length.

A sharp intake of breath was John's reaction, followed by yet another breathy moan and a shifting of his head. Sherlock looked up to make sure he still asleep, then gave another lick and this time a lapping at the head, earning another sleepy hiss and a groan. The shallow thrusting resumed. Sherlock gently held his hips down so he could continue without risking being speared or choked.

Sherlock mouthed down the length until he reach the round taut sacks, tonguing the delicate globes encased within the lightly fuzzed skin, which got a good reaction as well as when he tried sucking them into his mouth.

He made his way back up the length as he decided to finally take John into his mouth.

"Uhn..", moaned John, and Sherlock pulled off to check, worried that he had ruined his experiment. Thankfully, he was still in the clear and so resumed his activity. He grasped the member at the base and flicked his tongue at the head. Then he pulled the foreskin down a little to tongue at the slit, John's sleepy moans and panting filling the air meanwhile. Sherlock pushed his tongue under the foreskin a little before once again engulfing the rest into his mouth. He allowed John some movement as he bobbed his head, suckling eagerly.

"Sh-Sherlock..uhn..".

The detective could sense that if he kept up, John would come soon. But Sherlock wasn't done! The current activity was exhilarating for sure, but it wasn't enough! Sherlock wanted more!

Pulling off again, he thought for a moment and ah, yes! John's most intimate area remained yet untouched. Now he needed to maneuver John onto his front...and hopefully not wake him in the process. But Sherlock was confident that he could do it. He had thus far hadn't he?

And so he very carefully guided his friend onto his front. Sherlock checked, and miraculously, the doctor was still out cold.

Almost giddily, Sherlock reached with both hands to touch and massage the round globes of arse, which by the way were _glorious._ After a small bit of fondling, he parted the cheeks to reveal the lovely darkish pink hole. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and moved in to taste it, first touching his tongue to the smooth perineum and licking one wet stripe upward. A tiny gasp was muffled into the pillows above. A quick smile and Sherlock resumed lapping and tasting the tightly furled muscle.

A few minutes of that and Sherlock decided that the only thing that would fully satisfy his aching need would be penetration. Yes, he must fuck John, and now. And with the way his friend was desperately moaning and panting sleepily, penetration was what John needed as well.

Although the detective had never really done this before, he knew the mechanics of it. So..he would need..something, yes?

 _Lubrication, Sherlock!_ His brain supplied. Right!

He quietly leaned over John to rummage through his drawers for the small bottle he kept there. Sure, masturbation might not appeal to him, but it doesn't mean he never has to get rid of the occasional morning wood, which he didn't take much pleasure in.

Finding the bottle, Sherlock returned to the task at hand. He flicked the cap open and slicked up his fingers, then spread the glorious cheeks again. He pressed a fingertip to John's opening and rubbed a little before slowly pushing in. A muffled grunt sounded from above.

Oh, it felt amazing touching inside of John, so hot and velvety as the muscles squeezed around Sherlock's finger. He filed the sensation away before adding a second finger, stretching John and opening him. Finally he inserted a third finger, eliciting more desperate groans from the man.

At long last, Sherlock removed his fingers, smiling at how John's arse instinctually tried chasing the retreating digits. He smoothed a hand over John's lower back.

"Patience, my John,", he whispered.

Quickly, he removed his dressing gown and t-shirt, and eased the waistband of his pajama bottoms over his throbbing member before stripping them off completely, leaving him naked and shivering with desire. His prick was leaking precum, the foreskin pulling back slightly to expose the glistening head.

"And now, my John, I will consume you.".

Sherlock lay down beside him and, grasping his hips, began sliding his cock against the firm, warm cheeks, pressing his face against the back of John's neck, moaning at the pleasurable touch. Not able to hold back any longer, Sherlock took the bottle of lube and squirted more into his hand to coat his hard prick, then spread the cheeks and began pushing the swollen head of his cock into the tight opening. Since John was asleep, his body totally relaxed, it wasn't very difficult to push inside John's entrance.

Sherlock had to bite his lip to stifle his gasping groan at the incredible pressure and heat around his cock. It was such a delicious feeling, and Sherlock had to remember to breath, and to catalogue these wonderful sensations.When he was finally buried to the hilt, he released a shaking breath and a whine of pleasure. And John picked that precise moment to wake up.

"Uhhnn...God, what..?", he grumble in a groggy voice, very curious about the stinging stretch in his arse. His eyes frantically searched the room for the source, ready to fight off a supposed attacker, and registered a warmth at his back. Turning his head behind him, his eyes landed on none other than his mad as a hatter flatemate, whose eyes were burning with lust, pupils blown wide, breathing heavily through gritted teeth. John's own eyes widened.

"Sherlock?! What the fuck -".

Sherlock took the opportunity to give his first, strong thrust.

Whatever else John was about to growl in outrage were interrupted by an indescribable feeling of being filled. Sherlock grinned and gave another sharp thrust.

"Ah-! O-oh, God...", John gasped, his fist gripping the sheets tightly.

"John.", it was almost a question, which was quickly answered by a needy voice.

"Fuck, Sherlock...again, please, do it again!".

Sherlock was more than happy to oblige, lifting John's leg for better access, and began thrusting slowly.

The room was filled with nothing but gasps and groans and sighs of extacy as both men indulged in each other's bodies.

"Fuck, Sherlock.".

"Oh, John.".

"Jesus..faster, Sherlock. Faster, please!".

"As you wish, my John.", Sherlock rasped in his ear, and sped up his thrusts as commanded.

John cried out, sweat forming at his hairline and heart hammering away in his chest. He wasn't sure what had prompted his flatmate's actions, and may have been about to be angry at him, but now he couldn't care a bit. The only thing that mattered now was Sherlock and their impromptu love-making.

"Oh, Sherlock...fuck, please..".

"What is it, John? Tell me what you need.".

"I..fuck..h-harder, Sherlock, harder!".

The younger man ceased momentarily, despite the mewling protests from the other, and re-positioned them, laying John back onto his front and propped himself on his hands over the quivering body. Using one knee next to John's hip for leverage, Sherlock resumed thrusting. Another keening moan from John, as if pleading.

"What do you need?", Sherlock groaned.

"Ah, please! Harder, love...pound into me, fuck me through the bloody mattress!".

"Oooh, John...", Sherlock growled, those words sending fire through his body, fueling him. He grabbed John's hip tightly and began thrusting in earnest, indeed pounding into the tight heat hard as his companion cursed and cried beneath him.

Sherlock angled his thrusts in order to reach that certain bundle of nerves within his lover which he had read about. A choked scream from John indicated that he'd hit his destination.

John nearly tore the sheets in his fists at the almost electric spark of pleasure that shot through him.

"Oh God, love...again, please don't stop, don't stop!", he was nearly sobbing into the pillow under his head.

"Never, my John..never.", Sherlock panted heavily, grunting and groaning as he worked to bring them both to the climax they were desperate for.

"Fuck, Sherlock...uhhn, gonna come..". He was teetering on the edge, with his young love pounding into him, striking his prostate with each thrust, and his own cock trapped between his stomach and the bed being rubbed and adding to the overwhelming sensations filling him.

"Mmmm....yes, John..'m close, too...ahh, come..come with me...!".

Just as he demanded, John arched against Sherlock and his toes curled as his orgasm hit him head on, the pillows partially muffling his near scream, his cum flooding the space beneath his hips.

Sherlock was seconds behind, with John's hole clenching tighter around his cock with his climax. His body stiffened and he shouted his orgasm, spilling himself inside John.

They both collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily like they had just run a marathon. Sherlock pulled out as his cock began to soften, watching as his cum trickled out after.

"Fascinating.", he remarked when his breathing slowed to normal.

John looked at him, and then began to laugh, causing the other man to look back at him curiously.

"You mad bastard.", he said with a grin, "You know, people go to jail for things like this.".

Sherlock furrowed his brows at him, as if confused. John rolled over onto his back, wincing slightly at the dull ache in his bottom, and looked him in the eye.

"I was asleep, Sherlock. You didn't exactly get my express consent.".

The younger man grunted in reply, following with, "I assumed from your dream that you were more than interested in pursuing a sexual relationship.".

John raised an eyebrow. "My..dream?".

"Yes, John.", said Sherlock, rolling his eyes as if to say _do keep up_ , "You were moaning and calling to me in your sleep. I came to you thinking you were having a nightmare only to discover that you were in fact having a sexual dream about me.".

"Oh, God.", John's face flushed red and he covered his eyes in embarrassment.

"No need to feel embarrassed, John. As a result of discovering your feelings for me, I have realized that I harbor similar desires for you.".

John took his hand away, looking back at the lanky detective with surprise.

"Really? Y-you do? You..want me?".

"You heard me perfectly, I won't repeat myself.".

Sherlock leaned over to the ex-soldier and pressed his lips to John's for the second time that evening. John's eyes fluttered closed with a pleased sigh, savoring the feel of those full cupid bow lips. A tiny moan escaped Sherlock when he felt a tongue licking at his bottom lip, seeking permission to enter, which he happily allowed. Soon tongues were touching and tasting and sliding together, both men voicing their pleasure and swallowing the other's moans.

The kiss ended and John had to take a breath before speaking again.

"I see. That's..great then. Wonderful, actually.".

Sherlock smirked at him. "So, you won't be calling the Yarders on me?".

John huffed out a laugh. "Not as long as you keep kissing me like that.".

He quickly shucked off his rumpled t-shirt and tossed it aside before practically diving on top of Sherlock, embracing as their lips crushed together passionately. He could only hope that this was the start of a new beautiful chapter in their life.


End file.
